The dust settles on Chibok, a quiet town forever marked by a single, horrific event. Ten years ago, Boko Haram militants stormed a school, ripping 276 girls from their classrooms and their families. In the shadowed corners of their homes, the parents and relatives of the remaining 90 Chibok girls held captive by Boko Haram bear a burden that defies time.
A decade has slipped through their fingers, yet the fate of their loved ones remains shrouded in uncertainty.
Mary Shettima walks through her days with a constant ache in her heart. Every creak of the floorboard, every knock at the door, sends a jolt of hope and fear through her. Could it be Margaret? Could her beautiful daughter, now a woman of 29, finally be coming home? But the hope is always dashed, leaving behind a crushing disappointment that never truly fades.
Margaret was snatched away from the Government Girls Secondary School in Chibok ten years ago, her future ripped away in an instant. But it's the silence that breaks Mary. The silence of unanswered questions of nights spent staring at the moon, wondering if Margaret is still alive. The silence of birthdays and Christmases without her daughter's presence. The silence reverberates through the corridors of her heart. The pain is raw, a constant reminder of the gaping hole left in Mary's life.
Across the street is another mother, Yana Galang, clinging to a thread of hope. Yana keeps her daughter's clothes laid out, a fragile reminder of a life interrupted, a desperate plea for her return. She clings to the memories: her daughter's infectious smile, the way she twirled her braids absentmindedly while studying, the warmth of her embrace.
Yet, the years have blurred the edges of hope. The world outside moves on, but Yana remains suspended in that moment of abduction, her heart forever trapped in the night when darkness swallowed her daughter.
Hauwa was one of the lucky ones. She escaped the clutches of Boko Haram, but freedom hasn't brought peace. She was abducted at 14, her innocence stolen by masked militants. The weight of her stolen years and the plight of her sisters who remain captive hangs heavy on her. "I feel completely weak knowing others are still going through this," she says, her voice choked with emotion. Another escapee who endured three years of captivity before finding freedom echoes Hauwa's sentiment. "How can we celebrate when so many are still suffering?"
The world erupted in outrage when the news of the Chibok abduction broke. But for the mothers and families left behind, the outrage has faded, replaced by a gnawing fear that they've been forgotten. The questions that hang heavily in the air of Chibok are a constant reminder of their shattered lives: When will they feel safe again? When will justice prevail?
These girls now know the depths of despair. Years of captivity etched scars on their body and soul. Those who are free carry the weight of survivor's guilt. While their families' lives are suspended between hope and despair, between memories and the void left by their missing daughters.
As we mark a decade since Chibok, let us not forget these mothers. Let us amplify their voices, demand justice, and hold space for their pain. For in their tears lies a collective plea: Bring back our girls.We cannot let their stories fade. We must keep the spotlight on Chibok, on the girls who remain captive and on the families who yearn for their return.
©️www.injusticeisreal.org
17th April, 2024
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